Bad Things
by Abandon Structure
Summary: Jesus's cousin Amy is sent by their Abuelo to rescue his ass from Marnie and Antonia before things can get completely effed up. But Amy's gifts aren't like Jesus's and leaving isn't an option once she starts seeing even more bad things to come.


There's was fire and screaming and lots of it. Bodies flailing, limbs jerking, people howling and dying like mad dogs in a heat wave all crazy and mean like. Amy stood in the middle of all of it, heart racing in her chest as her eyes scanned frantically over boiling faces until she caught the eyes of the only one familiar to her.

"Jesus." Smoke wafted around her but didn't touch her. The heat licked at her heels and moved through her, understanding she was only a dream in this particular reality.

"Oh _mi __hermano._ _Qué __has __hecho_?" What have you done?

Her cousin froze in his flailing, eyes locking on hers and filling with tears as the flesh dripped from his bones, his mouth moving to form the words even as his vocal cords burned.

_Help us._

* * *

><p>Amy woke up in the passenger side seat of some random truck cab with a crick in her neck and the taste of last nights hastily scarfed dinner in her mouth.<p>

"Good dream?" Her benefactor of the moment inquired, glancing over at her as he shifted lanes, heading for the exit that would take them off the interstate and into Louisiana proper.

"The best kind," Amy replied, ignoring his obvious interest. He wasn't the first pervert she'd encountered in her years of nomad existence and undoubtedly he wouldn't be the last. And she didn't have to be psychic to know what a rotten time he was planning for her once they reached the rest stop just beyond the next highway exit.

_It__'__s__kind__of__sad,_she thought, studying the trucker. His name was Johnny. He had a 10th grade education, rotting teeth, and the reading comprehension of a five year old on crack. God could have at least given him something in the genetic lottery.

Fifteen minutes later she discovered God's gift and Johnny discovered the inside of his eyeballs.

"Look at it this way," she informed Johnny's unconscious form, eyebrows raised. "Be grateful I didn't cut off the only good thing you have going for you."

She'd done worse to lesser men for lesser offenses. Johnny was just damn lucky she was in a hurry.

Leaving him unconscious in the cab of his truck to sleep off his stupidity, she jumped from the cab onto the asphalt, eyes already scanning for her next mode of transportation.

It was pretty late so mostly what she had were truckers, truckers, and more truckers and quite frankly she was getting sick of truckers. Half of them were rapists and the other half were zealots. It was a toss up between which she hated more – the one's who preached sin and damnation or the ones who practiced it.

Taking a leisurely stroll down the rest stop sidewalk, she enjoyed her momentary respite into the land of the almost alive before letting out a sigh and focusing her attention back to the task at hand: Bon Tempes, Louisiana – home of her cousin, his lover, and one dumb wicca named Marnie who was about to learn the difference between witch and bitch real up close and personal like.

* * *

><p>She'd lucked out – there'd been a van full of frat boys returning from some sporting event that had let her hitch a ride to just outside of Shreveport. Three hours with them had almost made her feel nostalgic for her trucking days. The difference between truckers and frat boys was that frat boys, thank-the-fucking-gods, comprehended the word no before she was forced to resort to physical violence.<p>

Inside Shreveport proper she caved and hailed a cab – she had business to attend to and as much as her anger and righteous rage was an aid in vengeance matters and the like, she wanted a clear head for her first look-through of the Moon Goddess Emporium situation.

Settling her ass in the backseat of the cab, she stretched her legs and rolled her eyes at the name. _Moon __Goddess._

What-fucking-ever. Moon Beam was a better choice of names. Gee-zus – was this women trying to make witches a cliché? It was by the grace of the fucking gods that witches were still safely tucked away within the closet and Amy didn't think any of the goddesses, moon or otherwise, would particularly enjoy being associated with Marnie's stupidity.

_I __take __that __back, _she immediately corrected, closing her eyes and letting her head thunk sideways against the window. She knew plenty of Goddesses who would get a kick out of Marnie frying herself and a dozen other humans. Their sense of humor sucked that way.

It was a twenty minute drive from Shreveport to Bon Tempes, or rather the outskirts of Bon Tempes proper. The cab driver refused to go beyond the city limits and Amy couldn't really blame him – place was a fucking ghost town.

"Creepy," she announced into the quiet, duffel slung over her shoulder as the dust from the cab tires hauling ass in the other direction wafted around her. She'd felt a lot of strange shit in her twenty-four years but the eerie silence pulsing all around her, that, that was just plain fucked up.

The whole situation reeked to high heavens. Marnie whats-her-face was a no-name, a minor two-bit card trick hack who could barely power her way out a paper bag. No way in hell could she have managed to clear a whole fucking town and erect what Amy found to be one hell of a defensive wall. It'd keep most things out – anything that didn't have a lick of witch blood didn't stand a chance of gaining even a centimeter against that thing.

Someone or something was helping her. If Amy had to make a short list of all the major players in the area, Jesus would be pretty high up on the power scale but no way was her cousin stupid enough to get involved with this shit.

"And I'm the fucking Easter Bunny," Amy muttered to herself, kicking a rock against the edge of the shield around the back of the place as she paced. Jesus had gotten involved, alright. Probably didn't even realize what he was stepping into; shitstorms had a way of surprising people after all. Even she still got the occasional nasty shock from them.

She was having a bit a difficulty with this particular stench, though. She'd been getting this gawdawful visions of fire and frenzy for the past week, first waking her from a dead sleep at some jungle hutch down in Central America and just progressing all fine and dandy like from there. She was tired and cranky and frustrated because she'd gotten the major workings – who and what – but with big giant middle chunks all missing and shit.

"You know what would really help right now?" She informed the heavens snarkily, feeling all cranky and mean because last nights dinner was the last thing she'd eaten. "A goddamn clue."

"Send me a sign," she ordered the heavens grumpily, before turning back towards the main road with a sour expression. "It's the least you can do."

"Hello?" Amy paused at the voice, running through her usual list of questions whenever someone spoke to her.

First, was their a body to go with the voice?

Her eyes scanned in the direction of the sound, eyes narrowing and hand clenching in a ready fist as a head of almost-curly blonde hair poked itself up from a nearby dumpster, puppy-dog eyes and a half-days stubble following it.

Second, was the body corporeal?

"Just take it easy," the man requested, hands held in front of him as he emerged into the daylight. "I come in peace."

He didn't get all whispy like and she couldn't see through him, so he wasn't a ghost which made him a real live human being.

Phase One, complete.

"Isn't that supposed to be my line?" She questioned, standing her ground as he approached one cautious step at a time.

"I saw the cab drop you off," the man continued on, stopping about seven feet from her, apparently deciding that was close enough. "Just didn't want you to get scared and all."

"And why would I be scared…?" Amy trailed off, inviting his interruption.

"Jason," he introduced himself. "Jason Stackhouse. Pleasure."

He smiled, a quick twist of his lips that Amy thought was supposed to be something resembling charming or adorable but mostly reminded her of scared squirrel – cute and twitchy and ready to run at a moments notice.

"Pleasure's all mine, Jason. Can I ask what you're doing out here all by yourself?" Amy turned her attention back to Moon Goddess with a frown, dismissing Jason as mostly harmless. He didn't have a lick of power in him, though there was an odd hazing to his aura that would have been a nice distraction any other day of the week.

"I could ask you that same thing, Miss…?" Amy smiled thinly to herself.

"Amy," she introduced and left it at that Mr. Jason Stackhouse may have no qualms about giving his full name to random strangers, but Amy wasn't in the habit of giving away personal information every time somebody asked.

"What's so bad about this town?" Amy continued on, musing partially to herself and partially to Jason, throwing the bait out there.

"Are you kiddin' me?" Jason demanded.

_Hook._

"This place is a fuckin' ghost town, sweetheart, and you and me are like sitting ducks. We need to get you somewhere safe while I figure out how to fix this thing."

"Me?" Amy found that richly amusing but Jason was far less likely to share information with her if she started laughing at him. "And what thing? What the hell is going on here?"

Jason paused, actually full-on hesitated for several moments while the wheels turned in his head. Amy could practically see them twisting, trying to find an explanation that put his playboy ass in the best possible light.

"See, here's the thing, Miss Amy. You know vampires are real, right?" Amy wanted to roll her eyes but she settled for a head nod. She'd been living in a goddamn jungle for almost three years now but even she knew vampires were real.

"Well, you see, they ain't the only thing that goes bump in the night, if you get my drift."

_Line._

There were a thousand and one dirty jokes to be made at that statement but Amy was all about the restraint. And there was nothing funny about Jesus being stuck behind this goddamn wall. But she almost smiled. _Almost._

"What's going on, Jason?" Inside her head, Amy was standing arms crossed in the middle of the road staring at Moon Goddess as she tried to find the weakness in its defense. In reality she was all wide doe eyes and pure Bambi innocence as she blinked at poor, defenseless Jason Stackhouse.

"Witches, sweetheart," Jason replied. "One nasty ass powerful witch named Antonia somethin' or other and Marnie."

"Antonia." Amy pondered the name, trying to find a face and failing. "Is she local?"

"She's dead," Jason replied bluntly. Amy's head jerked around so fast it almost gave her whiplash as she stared at Jason in genuine shock. A vampire witch?

"Marnie fucking channeled her spirit and her power and now she's gonna fuckin' kill us all. And my sister just fucking vanished into thin air – full on poofed away."

Jason was hitting his limits of what he could handle, poor baby.

All in all, he was just another poor, defenseless human running around, mucking up the works. If Amy was as fully responsible as an actual adult, she'd be getting him the hell out of here right now. As it stood, however, he was her best source of information and quite frankly Amy didn't give enough of a shit to try and protect him. Plus, at the moment, there really wasn't anything to protect him from. Marnie or Antonia or whoever the hell was in there wasn't all that interested in being out here.

For the moment.

"Listen, Jason, can you tell me exactly what happened here?" Puppy-dog was back as Jason blinked at her in confusion.

"Why?" He asked, eyes widening somewhat. "Are you like, some sort of witch, too?"

_Smart __cookie, _Amy thought, sparing Jason a wry look before turning her gaze back to Moon Goddess.

"Or something," she agreed, not deigning to combine who she was with what Marnie was. Amy was descendant from two different thousand plus year old lines of pure witch. Marnie was a lucky shot of sperm and egg and maybe a small drop of something not so human a few millennia ago.

"So you can fix this?"

"You gotta tell me what happened first," Amy confirmed, glancing around the empty streets before her eyes alighted on an empty deli just down the road.

"Come on," she stated, starting in that direction. "You can buy me lunch."

She could feel his disbelieving stare all up and down her backside and fought the urge to sigh.

_Great, another pervert._

But at least this one had the decency to be discreet about it.

* * *

><p>"You seriously want to eat at a time like this?" Jason was staring at her in disbelief as she woofed down a ham, mustard, and pickle sandwich on whole wheat bread. Amy didn't bother to respond to that. It'd been almost twenty-four hours since she'd eaten anything and her blood sugar was so dangerously low she was about five seconds away from blowing something up in a fit of hunger induced rage.<p>

"Explain what happened to me again," she ordered, reaching for her soda.

Fifteen minutes later she had the long and the short of it with a nice chunk of details not-remembered by Mr. Stackhouse that had her sighing because now she had to go crawling around in his head to find the information she needed and she fucking hated doing that. People's minds were messy, unorganized, horrible things that had more twisty turns and loopty-loops than a freakin' mountain road.

"Listen, Jason," she swallowed the last of her sandwich as she tried to make herself appear as harmless and girl-like as possible which, judging from the way Jason was eyeing her cleavage, wasn't really that difficult. "I need to do something to you."

His eyes jumped to her face so full of hope and heat she almost sighed again. _Goddamn __horndog._

"What kind of something?" He asked, all genuine smile and wiggling tail now.

"I need to get inside your head," she informed him bluntly. She took a breath to further explain but Jason's eyes had already lit up.

"Ah, so you're psychic like Sookie." Amy knew Sookie was Jason's sister, the one who had up and poofed into thin air thanks to Marnie, but the psychic angle was new.

"You're sister's a witch?"

"Telepath," Jason corrected. "And a real strong one too. Ain't you a telepath?"

"Not really," Amy replied, distracted by this newest tidbit of information.

"Then what exactly do you need inside my head for? And why did you even ask? Is it like a vampire thing, you know, you need permission in order to enter? Is that the general rule to thumb?"

There were no hard and fast rules to witchcraft but Amy wasn't about to explaining that to Jason – he wouldn't like it and she needed him cooperative and pliant.

"Can you just think back to when your sister disappeared?" Amy instructed, reaching across the table to touch his face even as he flinched back, staring at her, morphing from puppy to nervous squirrel in the blink of an eye.

"What exactly are you gonna do? And is it gonna hurt?"

"You won't feel a thing," Amy promised. _And __even __if __you __did, __I __wouldn__'__t __let __you __remember __it._ Sometimes human beings could carry one hell of a grudge against you if you gave them so much as a sliver. "And all I'm gonna do is touch your face."

Jason eyed her for a moment before carefully nodding his head once. "Alright then," he stated. "You have my permission."

_Joy_, Amy thought, touching his temples and taking a deep breath before sliding inside his mind.

* * *

><p>He'd done what she'd asked, thinking back to Moon Goddess and Marnie waving her arm right before his sister and three other people disappeared.<p>

_Moren de Solsa._

Loud, echoey and over dramatic and old enough latin that Amy wasn't quite sure what it meant. Something bad, though, considering five people just up and vanished after she said them, including Marnie herself.

Amy stayed inside Jason's head for a few minutes longer, trying to see if anything else happened but there was only him, stumbling around and being seriously freaked out by the recent turn of events.

Releasing Jason, she eased herself back in her chair, pursing her lips thoughtfully.

She had no idea what Marnie was saying, but she recognized the spell. Transportation was one of the really big ones, right up there with conjuring out of thin air. It took a whole hell of a lot of juice and anybody who used it on their own was gonna feel a hell of a lotta bad the next day if it was over any great distance.

Marnie had Antonia, though, and Antonia was already dead so physical pain wasn't gonna affect her. And even though Marnie would definitely feel something, the fact that she was mostly relying on Antonia's juice to keep her going meant she wasn't gonna risk going back to powerless bitch by using it all up in one go. Which mean they all probably just ended up transported back inside Moon Goddess Emporium.

"So?" Jason was blinking at her impatiently. "You find anything helpful?"

Amy studied him for a moment, trying to decide whether or not he'd be a help or a hindrance. Her personal priority was Jesus, Jason's was undoubtedly Sookie's. Abuelo had asked her, in a round about and quite frankly rude way to save Jesus's lover as well, which made him secondary. The other people, the ones trapped inside…well, she wasn't going to just abandon them, but Jesus was still more important. Abuelo would not hesitate to kill her if she didn't get him out of here alive. And he'd probably figure out a way to fuck her up if she didn't get the other guy, too.

"What's Jesus's boyfriends name?" She asked, disrupting whatever rantstorm Jason had been working himself into as he started, surprised.

"How do you know Jesus?" He asked, ignoring her question. She made a frustrated noise in the back of her throat.

"Lover's name, now."

"Lafayette," Jason supplied before repeating, "how do you know Jesus?"

"Cousins," Amy replied, pausing before correcting herself. "Second cousins, actually, on our mothers side."

"So he called you before we left today?" Oh how wonderfully nice – a dense human.

"Something like that," Amy answered, pushing to her feet. "Come on, pup. We've got work to do."

"We?" Jason scrambled to his feet, following her out the door after hastily throwing a couple of bills down on the empty table. "And who you calling pup, witch?"

If that was meant to be an insult, he had failed horribly. Bit like calling a kettle a kettle – it already knew what it was.

**A/N: **I actually wrote this right before the season finale of True Blood so as much fun as the show was, I'm gonna screw things up a bit. I was really pissed off when they killed Jesus. Didn't care about Tara, but Jesus? Come on!


End file.
